


His Best Student

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, ConHayth, Cuddling, Exhibitionism, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Shaytham, Teacher/Student Kink, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Shay's education under Haytham is far more comprehensive than he expected.</p><p>(All aboard the Shaytham hype train!)</p><p>(Now with 100% more incest!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get the ball rolling shall we? I'm hoping this pairing will grow really popular :D
> 
> As I am writing this in August and the game comes out in November, I have no doubt that my characterisation of Shay will be completely inaccurate, but I was too impatient to wait until I knew more about him to start writing.  
> Anyway I guess we'll see how far off I was in a few months :P

It was strange.

When Shay was younger he’d never have imagined he’d look up to a Templar, never mind a bloody _Brit_.

But, then he’d met Haytham Kenway and many of his beliefs had been turned on their head..

He was a teacher, mentor, and role-model. Well-dressed and charismatic, Haytham’s wit was as sharp as his blade.

Shay hoped to be just like him.

Well...

Maybe less English...

Regardless, Haytham was clearly his key in seeking vengeance. Shay had done what he could to reduce the blatancy of his admiration for the slightly older man, concerned it would be perceived by outsiders as something untoward, but within him it continued to shine bright and strong.

Shay had expected to hate Haytham at first, his Irish upbringing making him suspicious of authority (especially _English_ authority) and unimpressed by his lofty title of ‘Grand Master.’

But Haytham had surprised him with both his ruthlessness and sense of justice. He had soon learned that the man’s aristocratic bearing and classical education in no way compromised his cunning or worldliness.

He did have a bit of a toffee accent, true, but then no one was perfect.

 

It was during one chilly autumn evening that Shay was forced to re-examine his personal feelings regarding the senior Templar. It was not so terribly unusual that a man his age should look up to their mentor, but somewhere along the way his feelings had evolved into something deeper, more _carnal._

They were in a tavern in New York, – Shay’s own home city – staving off the cold with a drink by the crackling fireplace. The tavern was doing a roaring trade, full of locals and travellers alike, so no one was really paying them any mind.

“So,” Haytham began in that crisp English accent Shay so loved to mock but was secretly rather fond of. “How’s life as a Templar suiting you?” His eyes gleamed warmly in the light of the fire.

Shay grinned, unconsciously fidgeting with the ring that marked him as a member of the Order. “Could be worse I suppose,” he mused. “I have this arse of an Englishman following me around all the time, but at least I have nice new coat.” He flicked the lapels of said coat appreciatively.

Haytham chuckled, not at all offended. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually,” he said, taking a sip of his brandy. “I received a letter from Charles just this morning. It seems I am needed back in Boston.”

Shay grimaced at the mention of Charles Lee. He had never disliked a man so quickly in all of his life. There was just so much about him that Shay objected to, from his typical English snobbery to his bristling moustache to his useless furball of a dog.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked. He didn’t relish the chance of encountering Haytham’s usual crowd again (though he supposed those blokes Hickey and Johnson were alright, especially once they had a few drinks in them) but if Haytham wished it, he would go.

“Well actually I was rather thinking you could take charge here in New York,” Haytham explained. “You know the city as well as anyone, and you’ve already proven you can more than take care of yourself.”

Shay stiffened in surprise. Haytham wanted him to maintain order in his stead? The thought filled him with warm pride, though the feeling was quickly dispelled as he realised it might be months before he saw Haytham again.

“But-” he protested, reaching for the first objection he could think of. “The _Morrigan_ -”

“Your ship?” Haytham frowned. “I would not dream of parting you from her, of course. I suppose once you’ve gathered a sufficient number of recruits here in the city you may return to the sea as you please.”

“But am I not more valuable to you as a captain than an agent?” Shay asked.

“Shay-” Haytham sighed. “I need someone here I can trust. Do you not want the role? It would put you in charge around here, answering only to me in terms of precedence.”

“I understand, sir, and I’m flattered,” Shay replied diplomatically, slipping into more formal speech to show he was serious. “But I don’t know the first thing about running a cell.”

“It’s not so difficult,” Haytham assured him. “You simply decide who is sent on which contracts. I need you here, Shay,” he repeated. “Davenport’s gathering his forces again, but whether he’ll target here or Boston remains to be seen and it would be unwise to spread out my forces.”

Shay felt a flush of warmth again. It was nice to be needed, especially by the Grand Master himself.

“Fine,” he heaved a sigh. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Haytham’s smile contained a hint of relief. “You may of course write to me in Boston to ask for any guidance or advice.”

Shay knew it wouldn’t be quite the same as having the man around. But then, he supposed a title like ‘Grand Master’ came with a myriad of responsibilities. He hoped he hadn’t been monopolising Haytham’s time.

He was jolted from his thoughts as a chair was noisily overturned by a man rising to his feet a bit too enthusiastically a few tables over.

“I’m staying in a room upstairs,” Haytham said smoothly after eyeing the drunk man. “Shall we continue this conversation in private?”

Shay nodded and drained his tankard. Inwardly, his heart was racing. _Alone in the Grand Master’s bedroom!_ he thought humorously. _What would my mother say?_

He had intended it only as a private joke to himself, but to his surprise the thought made him feel rather flustered. Climbing the stairs, he realised he felt very warm. Though that was probably just the liquor.

Letting him into the room, Haytham motioned at the chair in the corner before closing the door behind them both. He himself sat on the edge of the bed.

“When will you be leaving then?” Shay asked curiously.

“Tomorrow morning I expect,” Haytham replied offhandedly. “The sooner I get back, the better.”

“So soon,” Shay commented, feeling rather set adrift. He swallowed. “Master Kenway, I’m... grateful. To you. For teaching me everything, I mean,” he said awkwardly.

Haytham raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I haven’t taught you _everything_ , Mr Cormac,” he replied wryly.

“What do you mean?” Shay asked. There seemed to be a suggestive undertone to Haytham’s words, though what he was implying Shay couldn’t be certain.

Haytham regarded him silently, and for a moment his gaze seemed to carry a flicker of heat. “Come here,” he said finally, patting the space next to him on the bed.

Shay obeyed, standing up from the chair and walking over to sit carefully on the neatly made bed. He wasn’t sure what to expect, though somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he had an inkling. What was more surprising was his utter lack of objection to that inkling.

Haytham turned slightly to face him as he sat down. “It’s strange,” he murmured quietly, his eyes dark in the light of the candle. “When I first met you I thought I could grow to care for you like a younger brother, or even a son.”

Shay’s heart sank. Comparisons to familial ties were not exactly what he had been hoping for.

“But now,” Haytham continued, voice low. “I see that I do not care for you like a son at all.” Slowly, so as to give Shay plenty of time to pull away if he wished to, Haytham raised a hand and lightly dragged his knuckles against Shay’s cheek in a soft caress, making Shay’s heart skip a beat and set his nerves alight with a sudden fierce burst of lust.

“Do you want me to stop, Shay?” Haytham asked, his fingers now lightly gripping the younger man’s chin.

Shay shook his head wordlessly, his pupils dilated in the dim light.

Haytham smiled, leaning forward to close the distance and brush his lips against Shay’s.

Shay gave a great shuddering breath and then they were kissing, tentatively at first but swiftly gathering pace. Before Shay knew it, Haytham’s tongue had slipped between his lips and was tangling hotly with his own.

Shay groaned, one hand gripping Haytham’s shoulder while his other arm wrapped around his back, pressing them closer together. He felt rather than saw Haytham smirk against his lips, the reason for which was soon clear as he experienced a hot mouth dragging along his jaw and throat. Shay quivered slightly at the touch, baring his throat further.

That was all the concession Haytham needed to push Shay back against the bed, himself on top as he traced his racing pulse with his tongue.

“H-Haytham,” Shay gasped, feeling himself hardening in his trousers.

Haytham paused in his wicked ministrations to sit back and rake Shay with the full force of his desire-ridden gaze. “Have you ever been with a man before?” he asked, with all the casualness of someone commenting on the weather.

“No,” Shay admitted. He’d never even been _interested_ in such a thing before.

Haytham’s smirk took on a sharp edge. “I’ll teach you everything,” he promised in a dark tone that made Shay’s breath catch despite himself.

“Such an attentive mentor you are, sir,” Shay teased breathlessly.

Haytham’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You have _no_ idea,” he murmured heatedly, somehow managing to sound both threatening and promising at the same time. He leaned down to kiss Shay again, leisurely this time, with a hint of teeth. Pulling back again, he pulled at Shay’s overcoat.

“Off,” he ordered, already beginning to pull at his own.

Shay obeyed with haste, draping the coat of which he was so fond over the back of the chair. Haytham’s soon followed, then there were dexterous fingers fiddling with the laces on his trousers.

Shay felt a flash of nerves as he realised this, but then Haytham had pushed him back on the bed, Shay’s cock hard and heavy in his hand as he stroked it teasingly.

Making incoherent noises of pleasure, Shay thrust eagerly into his touch. A disappointed sound escaped him as Haytham removed his hand in favour of pinning him against the mattress with both hands on his hips.

Shay was going to question this but then Haytham was leaning down and suddenly his cock was engulfed in the slick heat of his mouth and his brain all but short-circuited in shocked pleasure.

Haytham had too strong a grip on him for Shay to be able to push further into his mouth, so he lay as still as he could and simply enjoyed the sensations. A hand found its way into Haytham’s dark hair, pulling at it slightly as the Grand Master gave him an especially slow lap with his tongue, but Haytham didn’t seem to mind.

When Shay was all but writhing against the bed, whimpering and growling in equal measure, Haytham pulled off and wiped his mouth with a smug look.

“Why did you stop?” Shay demanded, his cock now painful with arousal.

“I’m not nearly done with you yet,” Haytham explained, sitting up to pull at his own trousers and push them down to reveal his own impressive erection.

Shay stared at it, wondering nervously if Haytham expected him to reciprocate.

Haytham snorted at him. “Take your trousers off,” he instructed sternly.

Not at all reassured, Shay nonetheless obeyed, quickly pulling off his boots so he could remove them completely.

Haytham looked him up and down and nodded. “Good. Now lie down on your stomach.”

 _Oh_.

Well now Haytham’s intentions were becoming a lot clearer, though Shay felt no less concerned. Hastening to obey, he listened to Haytham shift around behind him as though searching for something, then felt the bed dip as he settled behind him again.

“This won’t hurt,” Haytham promised, voice a low purr. “I’m simply going to use my fingers to stretch you. Understand?”

“Yes,” Shay murmured, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

A single slicked finger was slowly pushed into him, breaching the tight ring of muscle and making Shay bite his lip. “You know, Master Kenway,” he drawled in his Irish lilt, seeking to relieve the gravity of the situation. “I do believe you are taking advantage of me.”

“Undoubtedly,” Haytham replied, amused as they both waited for Shay’s body to stretch around the intruding digit. “Fortunately for me, you do everything I say.”

A second finger slipped in alongside the first.

“How my parents must be rolling in their graves to hear an Englishman say that to me,” Shay grumbled, making Haytham chuckle. For Shay himself it had all but ceased being an issue. They were Templars first; any attachment to king and country came second.

Not that either of them were especially loyal to the crown anyway, but the principle stood.

Before Shay knew it, there were three fingers inside him, probing slightly to stretch him further.

“Ready?” Haytham asked lazily, and before Shay could even ask ‘for what?’ the fingers had curled inside him and an unexpected bolt of pleasure was racing through him like a river.

He moaned, squirming as Haytham continued to indulge him.

“Didn’t know that was there, did you?” Haytham asked, voice rich with satisfaction.

Shay shook his head mutely, too overcome to speak.

“All right, that’s enough of that.” The fingers were carefully withdrawn, making Shay whine at the sudden feeling of loss. “Turn over.”

Haytham took a moment to slick his erection up with oil, catching Shay’s eye and smiling devilishly at him. He dragged Shay closer to the edge of the bed so his legs were hanging off, then moved to stand inside them. Guiding his legs up over his shoulders so his entrance was bared, Haytham began to push in.

He was considerably bigger than his fingers had been. Shay blinked in surprise before remembering to relax his muscles again.

“All right?” Haytham asked, sounding a bit breathless himself.

Shay paused to consider. It did burn a bit as his body was forced to accommodate the intrusion, but it was a good kind of pain. He wanted more.

“Yes,” he replied at last, closing his eyes for a moment.

Haytham smiled to himself, and carefully pushed in the rest of the way.

Shay felt impossibly stretched, and very full, but the fact that it was _Haytham_ inside him was a potent balm against any lingering discomfort.

“Do it,” he growled.

Haytham did not disappoint.

Pulling out again and driving back in, he built up a solid rhythm that made them both pant and groan in pleasure and exertion. Hips snapping forward, each thrust of Haytham’s was long and deep, eventually pushing in at an angle that made Shay’s breath stutter and his toes curl.

Haytham repeated the action, pleased as he watched each subsequent thrust drive Shay wild with pleasure.

Giving himself entirely over to sensation, Shay revelled in the experience of being taken by his Grand Master, being claimed, used, and taught all in one fell (delightful) swoop. Haytham was nothing if not an effective teacher, he thought hazily.

After what felt like hours, Shay felt his climax drawing close through the blissful fog he had surrendered himself to.  A few more choice thrusts and he was coming with a strangled cry, clenching around Haytham in the process.

Haytham didn’t last much longer after that. With a muffled groan he too reached his peak, spilling inside the younger man.

He carefully pulled out and lowered Shay’s legs back onto the bed, then swiftly wiped himself clean with a handkerchief.

“Well,” Shay began dazedly. “I definitely can’t ride with you to Boston after _that_.”

Haytham laughed, lowering himself back down onto the bed to kiss Shay soundly. “That wasn’t my intention, I assure you,” he replied, voice mirthful.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if it was,” Shay murmured tiredly.

The Grand Master eyed him fondly. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asked, meaning the rented room.

Shay gave him a confused look. “But what about you?”

Haytham chuckled. “ _With_ me,” he amended.

“Will we both fit?” Shay asked, eyeing the bed questioningly.

“I’m sure we’ll manage.”

 

They _did_ both fit.

Sleeping while tangled up with the Grand Master was certainly a novel experience for Shay. He was very disgruntled to be woken up at dawn by Haytham silently slipping out from beneath the covers.

“Come back,” he muttered, still half-asleep.

Haytham smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek and card his fingers through his hair. “I will,” he promised. “In a few months.” He kissed him again, on the mouth this time, then straightened to finish dressing.

Once he was prepared and ready to leave, he paused in the doorway, committing the image to memory. He left without another word.

 

Several months passed and Shay heard very little from Haytham other than regular reports on the situation in Boston. Putting any intimate thoughts about the Grand Master from his mind, Shay concentrated instead on building up a sizeable force of Templars under his own command.

It was very like putting together the crew of a ship now that he thought about it.

Finally one warm afternoon, a recruit of his by the name of Penelope Green burst into the tavern where Shay was nursing a pint to deliver some exciting news.

“You’ll never guess who’s coming!” Penelope exclaimed in her raucous manner.

Shay sighed, feeling a headache coming on. Penelope was clever and wickedly fast with her twin daggers, but she was young and still quite excitable.

“Who?” Shay asked at last.

“The Grand Master _himself_ ,” Penelope whispered theatrically.

Shay stood at once. “Master Kenway is here?” he asked, frozen with hope.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I? And he’s asking for _you_. Oi, where you going?” Penelope shouted as Shay abruptly left the tavern.

Looking for _him._ Shay tried not to read much into it. Haytham was probably just here for a status update. But it had been so _long._

Lacking the patience for weaving politely through the busy streets, Shay took to the rooftops, using his second sight to lead him to the senior Templar.

He found him outside the same tavern as last time, tying up his horse out the front.

Silently, Shay climbed back down to ground level, though he needn’t have bothered. Haytham had already detected him and was turning to face him with a quizzical look.

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, Shay began to cross the street. “Still in one piece I see,” he said when he was close enough.

Haytham smiled. “I am. And you?”

“No complaints,” Shay replied, inwardly itching to make _certain_ that Haytham was as unharmed as he claimed.

A slow familiar smirk spread itself across Haytham’s face. “Come with me,” he ordered, and strode off, leading Shay into a dark deserted alleyway.

Shay had scarcely turned the corner before Haytham was upon him, pulling him flush against himself and kissing him with an unrivalled ferocity.

 _I missed you_ , Shay thought, though he dared not say it out loud.

Haytham did not say it either, though the fond look in his eyes was all Shay needed.

 

It turned out Haytham really was there for business, though evidently that did not indicate the complete exclusion of pleasure.

The Order’s numbers had swelled but the Assassins led by Davenport were still proving an utter nuisance, leading Haytham to begin considering the merits of a purge.

Shay was wholly supportive, eager as ever to eradicate the Brotherhood once and for all.

The Purge was carried out over several years and resulted in the death of hundreds of Assassins. They left only Achilles Davenport himself alive, figuring he wasn’t much of a threat on his own, and was unlikely to cause any damage in the future.

For the next fourteen or so years, they were right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another part coming that throws Connor into the mix, but as I'm sure not all of you are on board with conhayth, I've split it into a second chapter so you can skip it if you wish.  
> If the idea of a Shay/Haytham/Connor threesome appeals to you however, stick around for chapter 2 ;)  
> Otherwise, thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay runs into Haytham for the first time in twenty years, but this time he gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is. The threesome chapter.  
> Enjoy.

When Shay was in his forties, he experienced a very curious encounter with a man he never thought to see again.

“Master Kenway!” he called, surprised, his Irish accent as pronounced as ever.

Haytham stopped and turned to face him as Shay came running. “I thought you were dead,” he said, astonished.

“Says who?” Shay retorted. It had been roughly twenty years, and Haytham was noticeably older, though was still very handsome in Shay’s eyes.

Haytham looked ready to say something, but looked over his shoulder briefly as though distracted.

Shay eyed him curiously, noting that Haytham seemed tense.

And with good reason, or so it seemed to Shay, as a broad, dark-skinned young man in a white hood ( _Assassin!_ Shay’s mind hissed) strode up behind him.

Shay instantly dropped into a fighting stance.

The young man followed suit, though he was paying very little attention to Haytham. Shay’s mouth tightened. Fool. He’d be dead before he even knew he was in danger.

To Shay’s utter astonishment, Haytham made absolutely no move to kill or even stop the youth.

“Who is this?” the stranger demanded, his question seemingly directed at Haytham.

“An old... friend,” Haytham answered slowly. “Shay Cormac.”

Shay’s eyes widened. What the bloody hell was Haytham doing, giving an Assassin his name like that?

“Shay,” Haytham continued. “This is Connor.” He paused. “My son.”

Shay froze, not believing his ears. “Your son is an _Assassin_?” he hissed, not willing to believe it. Immediately after, the second part of information struck him. “You have a _son?_ ”

Connor said nothing, though his eyes glinted gold under his hood, alerting Shay to the fact that he was using his Eagle Vision (as the Assassins so quaintly called it).

“You are a Templar,” he said evenly, even as he relaxed his stance.

Shay’s blood was boiling. He had so many questions, he didn’t know which one to ask first.

“I see I’m going to have to catch you up on the last couple of decades,” Haytham commented with a trace of his old humour. He turned to Connor. “You can take care of this lot by yourself, yes?”

Connor’s mouth tightened, his pride apparently under question. “Of course.”

“Very good.” Haytham clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Follow me, Shay. We’ll go to my house.”

Haytham’s ‘house’ turned out to be more of a manor than anything else. Somehow Shay wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t that Haytham was especially grandiose, but a man of his position could afford a certain degree of luxury.

“Now, where to begin,” Haytham mused once they were seated by the fireplace, each sipping a cup of tea.

“Perhaps how it is you have a son,” Shay prompted. Though it had been a long time, he couldn’t help feeling a dark spike of jealousy at the thought.

“Ah, yes.” If Shay didn’t know better he would have said Haytham looked sheepish. He explained that in his early years in America – before he met Shay – he had enjoyed a brief dalliance with a Mohawk woman he called Ziio.

“I had no idea she was with child,” Haytham confessed uncomfortably. “If I had, then perhaps my actions would have been different.”

“And now he is an Assassin,” Shay stated flatly.

Haytham nodded. “Yes. It turns out Davenport wasn’t as incapacitated as we’d hoped.”

“But you are working together?”

“For now. While our goals are aligned.”

Shay paused to take it all in. “Will you kill him?” he asked bluntly after a moment.

For a split-second Haytham looked almost _pained_. “I believe I will have to,” he admitted. “Honestly I should have killed him as soon as I had the chance.”

“Yes, you should have,” Shay agreed. “I suppose he has something to do with the sudden rise in Assassin activity I have heard about around New York?”

Haytham gave him a look of frustration mixed with reluctant pride. “He is their leader.”

Shay cursed.

“He killed Green you know,” Haytham commented. “Did you know she had gone rogue?”

“ _What_?” Shay choked. “I came all the way here to kill her myself!” He frowned. “He must be quite skilled then.”

Haytham smiled faintly. “He is. He’s killed all my men but Charles.”

“Shite,” Shay muttered.

Haytham inclined his head. “Indeed.”

Time passed quickly as Shay recounted his own activities over the last twenty-odd years. Before they knew it, the sun had set and their conversation was halted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Haytham called, and the door opened to reveal his son, Connor, his robes bloodied and a long gash down his arm. He did not seem concerned by the injury however.

“The mercenaries are all dead, father,” he said proudly, utterly ignoring Shay.

“Excellent,” Haytham said distractedly, eyeing the bleeding cut with veiled concern. “Let’s go get you stitched up. Please excuse me for a moment, Shay.” He stood and guided Connor out of the room.

Shay rolled his eyes. Haytham was in _far_ too deep if he was worried about an injury like _that_. Let the Assassin take care of himself, he thought bitterly.

He took some time to look around the parlour, admiring the comfort and elegance of the room, but quickly grew bored sitting by himself.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he padded silently through the door that Haytham and Connor had left through. His sharp hearing alerted him to movement inside one of the rooms further down the corridor. The door had been left open a crack, so Shay quietly crept closer to peek through. He knew he shouldn’t be skulking around Haytham’s private rooms, but he just couldn’t fathom the fact that he was keeping an _Assassin_ in his home, son or no.

The sight that met his eyes was rather unexpected. 

Connor was sitting on the edge of the bed in the centre of the room, bare-chested and grimacing as his father examined the wound on his arm. It seemed rather odd that Haytham would be so concerned, Shay thought. He hadn’t realised that Haytham actually cared about his son. Yet it was clear as day that he did, if the careful way he was treating his injury was any indication.

He would have to learn more about Connor, Shay mused, eyeing his broadly muscled form with grudging admiration. He supposed he could see how the boy had managed to kill Green; in terms of sheer brute strength he was undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with.

Shay wondered if he himself would be able to kill Connor, if it came down to it. He hoped Haytham wasn’t too compromised to make the killing blow himself.

Distracted, it took Shay a moment to realise Connor had already finished washing and dressing his wound, assisted by Haytham where necessary.

“By now you really ought to have learnt to be more careful,” Haytham admonished Connor quietly.

Connor scowled but made no attempt to move away as he allowed his father to tie off the bandage. “I _was_ careful,” he muttered mulishly.

“Rubbish,” Haytham smirked at him. “You’re never careful. That’s half the problem.”

“Shut up,” Connor growled, grabbing Haytham by the collar and – Shay froze in shock and horror – kissing him hard on the mouth.

To Shay’s continued chagrin, Haytham did not seem in the least surprised, even positioning himself closer to improve the angle as he _kissed_ _back_.

That hadn’t been what Shay was expecting.

Heart beating rapidly in his chest, he continued to watch out of a perverse sense of curiosity, fascinated by the utter immorality of the scene in front of him. There was also a wave of jealousy that arose the longer he watched.

Intimacy was clearly not a recent development between the two men, judging by the ease and comfort with which they were currently locked together.

Despite himself, Shay soon felt himself growing rather hot. His position by the door gave him a perfect view of the action, from the way Connor’s hands were still clutching at Haytham’s clothing to how Haytham’s fingers were tangled in his son’s hair.

There was something oddly appealing about the depravity of the situation, Shay thought absently, his cock twitching with interest. Of course it helped that they were both very attractive individuals.

At last Haytham and Connor pulled away to breathe, Haytham giving his son a look of rueful amusement.

“Had you forgotten that I have a guest?” he teased. “What if Shay should catch us?”

Connor turned to look at the door – Shay stepped out of view just in time – and murmured “I do not care. Let him watch, he will see only that you are mine.”

“Connor,” Haytham said sternly, but his voice had grown deep with arousal. “There will be plenty of time for that _later_.”

Connor made a sound of frustration. “I want you,” he growled, reaching between Haytham’s legs.

Shay couldn’t help it. His breath caught.

Immediately, both Kenways froze and looked around.

Connor stood and marched purposefully over to the door, throwing it open fully and giving Shay an unimpressed look. “What.”

Shay was tongue-tied, unsure of whether to apologise or start throwing accusations around.

Inside the bedroom, Haytham sighed. “Come in, Shay.”

Connor glared at him a while longer, but stood aside to let him pass. The door closed behind them with an ominous click.

“Spying were you?” Haytham looked mildly irritated.

There seemed little point in attempting to deny it. He’d been caught red-handed. Shay cleared his throat and stood up straight. “I wanted to know what was taking you so long,” he explained casually, hoping his rapid heartbeat wasn’t audible.

Perhaps correctly surmising that Shay had no intention of attempting to turn them in or any such thing, Haytham relaxed slightly. 

Connor still looked most displeased, the bared muscles of his chest flexing threateningly as he sized Shay up. Clearly he was unhappy to have been interrupted.

Shay stared back evenly, not at all intimidated. Connor looked as though he could tear Shay apart with his bare hands if given the chance, but he doubted Haytham would allow such a thing. _He was mine first, you big bastard_ , he thought, a smirk playing about his mouth.

To his surprise, Connor’s cheeks darkened and he quickly looked away, apparently uncomfortable under Shay’s close scrutiny. Interesting. For all of his size and posturing, the Assassin was clearly still very young.

Seating himself on the bed where Connor had rested previously, Haytham looked between his son and his protégé with no small amount of amusement. “Come here, Shay,” he requested, indicating the bed.

Shay hesitated, immediately aware of the parallel to the time Haytham had invited him up to his tavern room. His heart leapt at the thought that the Grand Master might still desire him, but did Haytham really mean to test Connor’s wrath like this?

There was only one way to find out, Shay mused wryly, approaching Haytham to sit by him on the bed.

“Well, it has been a while, hasn’t it,” Haytham commented, eyes warm. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again.” He stroked Shay’s cheek with gentle fingers, lips twitching as he noticed that Shay still wore his hair tied back with a ribbon in a very similar style to his own. A common enough style between men of their standing of course, but Shay had only really started to wear it like that after meeting him.

Though he wanted nothing more than to give himself over to Haytham’s attentions, Shay was very aware of Connor seething a short distance away.

“You – you and he...” Connor began furiously.

Haytham turned to look at his son, though he did not drop his hand from Shay’s face. “Yes,” he answered simply. “A great many years ago.”

Shay snorted quietly. “Not _that_ long ago surely.”

Haytham just smirked at him, then leaned in swiftly to press their lips together.

Shay couldn’t resist. He kissed back, eagerly opening his mouth to admit Haytham’s questing tongue. Pressing closer, he groaned quietly, having missed the feeling of Haytham’s mouth on his far more than he had realised. A shiver of familiar lust ran through him, a quiet corner of his mind revelling in the knowledge that Connor was watching them.

“Enough,” Connor snarled, sounding nearer than before.

Parting reluctantly from Haytham, Shay opened his eyes to find Connor standing on Haytham’s other side, looking positively ferocious. As soon as Haytham had pulled away from Shay, Connor had leaned over to crush his mouth against his father’s.

Watching in lazy interest, Shay noted the biting anger of the kiss, the savage possessiveness. His trousers suddenly felt a lot more constrictive than before.

Haytham reached up to rest both hands on Connor’s waist, then abruptly pulled him down to sit next to him on the bed, leaving him sandwiched between the two younger men.

“I would have both of you tonight I think,” he said slowly, voice heated.

Connor and Shay looked at each other in dismay.

“How do you propose to do that, sir?” Shay asked, just as Connor declared “I will not touch _him._ ”

“It’s simple.” Haytham looked far too pleased with his own idea, Shay thought sourly. “I shall take one of you while the other takes me.”

Shay wasn’t certain he liked the sound of that, though his cock certainly approved.

“I think,” Haytham continued, looking between them both again, “that Connor would be best suited for the latter role. I think he’d go out of his mind with jealousy watching you, Shay,” he added fondly.

Connor growled warningly.

Not really in the mood to tempt the Assassin’s fury, Shay nodded in agreement, his mind becoming hazy with lust at the thought of being at the mercy of Haytham once more.

It wasn’t that he was especially enthusiastic about sharing the Grand Master with Connor, but the two Kenways obviously shared a close bond, and if Shay wanted any chance of further intimacy with Haytham, he knew some concessions would have to be made.

Connor still seemed very reluctant, though Haytham was swiftly remedying that even as Shay watched, leaning over to whisper quiet filth mixed with generous praise in his son’s ear. Soon there was a dark blush spreading across the half-native’s cheeks, his pupils dilating. Finally he nodded.

Haytham sat back again looking smug. “There is far too much clothing among us,” he commented slyly, rising to his feet and pulling at the ties of his cape. “Don’t you agree?” he asked Shay.

Shay smirked. “Indubitably,” he replied, also standing to follow suit.

Not to be outdone, Connor reluctantly rose as well, though he had fewer clothes on than his companions did as he was still bare to the waist. Nevertheless he began pulling at the ties of his trousers, gaze fixed on Shay.

Amused by the younger man’s eyes on him, Shay pretended he wasn’t aware of his regard, even as he subtly slowed his movements to tease him, revealing more and more of his pale skin with each garment that was removed.

Curious, he flicked his gaze over to Haytham. The Templar’s body was noticeably older and more scarred than the last time Shay had seen it, but still moved with the same lean grace.

Swallowing, Shay averted his gaze before he was spotted.

He had only just finished removing his drawers before his vision was abruptly filled with an expanse of bronze flesh. Looking up in surprise, he found Connor – completely bare now – standing directly in front of him, scanning him silently with dark, intense eyes.

Shay stared back, intrigued as he began to notice similarities between his features and Haytham’s. They had the same nose, he realised, amused. And though Connor’s mannerisms were entirely his own, some of his expressions mirrored his father’s as well.

A wave of recklessness washed through Shay, and before he could stop himself he had stepped forward and kissed Connor hard on the mouth.

To his surprise and delight, Connor did not immediately pull away. After a moment he even began to respond, though his answering kiss was rough and aggressive, his teeth catching harshly on Shay’s bottom lip.

Shay hissed at the sudden pain, forcefully thrusting his tongue between the Assassin’s lips in retaliation. It was a kiss born of lust and anger and jealousy, fuelled by the knowledge that Haytham was watching them hungrily from a short distance away.

The thought made Shay groan, Connor taking advantage of his lapse in control to shove him roughly against the wall, kissing him in a fury of angry desire.

Much as he disliked the loss of control, Shay couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of all that muscled bulk pressed against his skin, holding him pinned.

At last Connor pulled away, immediately looking to Haytham for his reaction.

Haytham was sitting on the bed where he had been watching them with lazy amusement, his untouched cock stiff between his legs.

Shay and Connor exchanged heated glances, then both approached the Grand Master with predatory slowness.

Connor climbed up onto the bed alongside his father, wrapping an arm around his chest from behind him and dropping kisses along his collarbone while Shay knelt on the floor in front of him, eyes gleaming eagerly as he waited for permission to continue.

Haytham nodded at him before turning his head slightly to allow Connor more room as he had begun to kiss and lick his way along his throat.

Positioning himself comfortably between Haytham’s legs, Shay took the head of his cock between his lips and began to suck, pleased when he heard the senior Templar’s sharp intake of breath above him. Taking him further into his mouth, he teased him with light laps of his tongue, the knowledge of which places gave Haytham the most pleasure flooding back to him, surprising Shay with the easy familiarity of the activity.

In the time in which they had worked together, the two Templars had certainly had plenty of opportunity to learn much about each others’ bodies. Shay had always been a good student, and had thrown himself into these ‘lessons’ with hungry enthusiasm.

It wasn’t as though he’d been any kind of celibate for the past couple of decades of course, but he hadn’t expected to remember so much of what the Grand Master enjoyed.

Neither had Haytham apparently, his breaths growing increasingly ragged as Shay dragged his tongue along the underside of his cock, his teeth lightly scraping a sensitive ridge.

He was abruptly silenced by a demanding kiss pressed upon him by Connor, the Assassin swallowing his quiet gasps as he possessed his father’s mouth.

When it seemed like Haytham was close to orgasm, Shay leisurely dragged his lips back off his cock and climbed onto the bed, watching father and son kiss hungrily for a few moments more before they finally parted, panting slightly.

Connor draped himself across Haytham’s back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and murmuring, “Want you.”

Seeing a similar sentiment mirrored on Shay’s face, Haytham chuckled. “Oil, Connor,” he ordered lowly.

Connor hesitated, scowling at the thought of leaving Shay alone with Haytham for even a moment, but he nevertheless obeyed, crossing the room to retrieve a glass bottle of oil from on top of the dresser.

When he returned to the bed, he was surprised to find not one but two pairs of eyes watching him shamelessly.

Concealing his embarrassment behind a glower, Connor handed the bottle over to Haytham, who offered it to Shay.

Dragging his eyes away from the fascinating shift and play of muscles beneath smooth bronze skin, Shay accepted the bottle and uncorked it. Coating his fingers in the slick substance, he began to prepare himself, watching avidly as Haytham pulled Connor down onto the bed and pinned him there with his weight, drawing one of his dusky nipples into his mouth and sucking while Connor squirmed and moaned beneath him, eyes fluttering shut.

The sheer incestuous flavour of their interactions was swiftly becoming a new fixation for Shay, and by the time he was fully stretched, his cock was painfully hard.

He quietly fucked himself with his fingers as he waited, watching as Connor flipped his father over onto his stomach as Haytham huffed in amusement.

Shay handed Connor the oil with his free hand, Connor taking it with a nod of thanks, oiling up his fingers before beginning to prepare Haytham himself.

When Haytham was sufficiently loose – as he would have to be, Shay thought with a quick glance at Connor’s impressive length – Connor set the oil aside and stood, apparently unsure of how to proceed.

Haytham stood too, and motioned for Shay to do the same.

“Now,” Haytham began, looking at Shay. “You brace yourself against the edge of the bed – yes, that’s right,” he said approvingly as Shay lowered himself to bend over the mattress.

Shay felt hands settled on his hips from behind him and rocked back slightly, grinding his rear against Haytham’s cock.

“Patience,” Haytham said with mock-sternness. “Don’t try and start before Connor’s ready.”

“Apologies,” Shay murmured, amused.

Once Connor was in position behind Haytham, the older Templar slid a hand down the side of Shay’s thigh. “Spread,” he ordered darkly.

Not quite able to believe what was about to happen, Shay obediently spread his legs, holding himself open for the Grand Master.

“Good,” Haytham praised him, lightly kissing his spine and making Connor growl impatiently.

Forcing his muscles to relax, Shay finally felt Haytham’s cock begin to push inside him, slowly as to let his body adjust.

Once he was fully sheathed within Shay, Haytham paused, waiting for Connor to do the same.

Connor did not hesitate, eager to stake his claim on his father. While he slowly pushed in, he busied himself with sucking a mark onto the junction between Haytham’s neck and collarbone.

Soon it was time.

Haytham set the pace, Connor hastening to match him as they both pulled out and thrust back in, all three men groaning in unison.

A solid tempo was built, hips snapping forward in tandem. The thought crossed Shay’s mind that it was a shame he couldn’t see what was happening above him but then Haytham’s cock pressed against his prostate and the thought was promptly banished as a shock of pleasure spread throughout his body.

It was easy to lose himself in the primal rhythm of it, the sound of laboured breathing and skin on skin. Soon he had lost track of time altogether, focused only on pleasure and sensation as he was fucked into oblivion.

He could feel his peak drawing closer and closer, though it was not Shay who came first, but Connor.

The Assassin came with a strangled groan, pitching forward slightly to rest his head against Haytham’s back. Haytham barely paused, continuing to rock into the younger Templar beneath him with long, deep thrusts; the kind that made Shay’s breath catch and his hips drive forward to grind weakly against the side of the bed.

Caught between Haytham’s cock and the brief bursts of friction against his own, Shay soon came with a shout, muffled against the bedsheets.

 Taking a deep shuddering breath, he lifted his head again and held himself still while Haytham continued to plunge roughly into him, his thrusts growing erratic as he too came closer to orgasm.

Finally the Grand Master pushed deep within Shay one last time and came quietly, burying his cry of satisfaction against his protégé’s skin.

None of the three men spoke for several moments, focused on catching their breath. Then Connor carefully pulled out of his father, who followed suit.

Despite being soiled with sweat and spilled essence, Connor crawled onto the bed and collapsed in the middle, exhausted.

Haytham snorted tiredly at him, shoving him over ruthlessly to make room for himself before settling down next to him. Connor shifted closer at once, letting his body curl against the length of his father’s so that they were spooning.

Shay stood, eyeing them enviously. He felt rather wrong-footed now, unsure whether he was permitted to stay or if he should slip away quietly.

To his surprise, it was Connor who lifted his head to fix him with an expectant stare. “Come on,” he urged sleepily.

Haytham made no arguments, busying himself with pushing Connor over a bit again so he could lift the blanket and slip underneath. That done, he too looked over at Shay, having left him plenty of space on his unoccupied side.

Shay smiled slightly, warmth spreading through him as he climbed beneath the covers and was tucked against the older Templar’s side.

Connor grumbled quietly to himself, also covering himself with the blankets and moving back into position against his father, nuzzling at his jaw as he wrapped a strong arm around his waist.

At first Shay was wary of accidentally brushing against Connor, unwilling to draw his ire, but soon realised the Assassin was too tired and comfortable to be properly fussed. Feeling happier, Shay relaxed, pressing closer to Haytham and boldly kissing his cheek.

Exhausted as they were, it wasn’t long until all three of them were fast asleep.

 

Shay awoke first the next morning, and though he was sinfully comfortable and warm (if a bit sore) he figured it was probably time he left.

Silently extricating himself from Haytham’s hold, Shay crossed the room to retrieve his clothing, pausing to clean himself up as best as he could with his handkerchief.

“Are you leaving?” Connor’s sleep-rough voice murmured from behind him.

Shay tensed in surprise, turning to find Connor also out of bed and staring at him quizzically, in an expression very reminiscent of his father.

“I think I’ve lingered long enough, don’t you?” he asked lightly.

Connor hesitated, glancing at Haytham where he was still sleeping soundly. “He was happy to see you,” he confided, looking back at Shay. “And you are not the worst Templar I have ever met,” he added with a wry twist of his lips.

“I suppose you’re not the worst Assassin I have ever met either,” Shay replied, wondering where Connor was trying to go with this odd conversation.

Connor snorted. “You should stay,” he said finally, looking away with sudden awkwardness. “I... do not mind. For a little while at least.”

Shay gave the large bed a brief look of longing before glancing back to Connor. “You will not be jealous?” he teased.

Connor’s face darkened until he realised Shay wasn’t mocking him. “I am always jealous,” he admitted. “But that does not mean you should leave.”

“Well then,” Shay relented, then strode forward to kiss Connor soundly.

The Assassin made a muffled noise of surprise before beginning to kiss back, apparently accepting Shay’s offer of gratitude for what it was before bodily dragging him back to bed.

 

When Haytham finally woke up that morning, he was very confused to find Shay on the _other_ side of the mattress, comfortably folded against his son’s flank, both peacefully asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we are at the end. I _might_ do another chapter but before then I should really get back to my other fics... 
> 
> Anyway, shout-out to Victoria and Taylor for their moral support and advice while writing this. I might have given up on this chapter if not for both of you, so thank you so much <3
> 
> Also thank you to _you_ for reading this whole thing! I hope you've enjoyed it!


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